


The Abyss Stares Back

by Krit



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Amnesia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Period-Typical Racism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-21 06:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18138650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krit/pseuds/Krit
Summary: My Magnificent Seven entries for Bad Things Happen Bingo!Each chapter is a different story with it's own rating, warnings, and tags, all of which will be spelled out in each chapter summary. Please read carefully. Some of these are going to be very mild, some of them are most certainly not.My card/blog you can prompt me on is here :http://onyxmoonstone.tumblr.com/post/183510246424/





	1. Faraday - Caught In A Storm - PG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thunder triggers Farday's PTSD.
> 
> Chapter Rating : PG
> 
> Chapter Tags : Panic Attack, Canon Drug Use

Billy had been keeping an eye on Joshua. Since the battle for Rose Creek, the younger man had been... different. He was still Faraday. Still a brash, drunk, gambler. Still had a sharp smile and a quick draw (though regaining his proficiency with his guns had taken a bit of time). He still antagonized Vasquez during the day, and crawled into his bedroll at night. But that spark behind his eyes had dimmed a bit. He started flinching at every unsuspected noise. He was twitchy. Unsettled. And the bags under his eyes where a decent sign that he wasn’t sleeping well.    
  
The first town they restocked in, Billy bought nearly twice as much opium as usual.    
  
“Think we’ll go through that much before the next town, cher?” Goodnight chuckled when he saw the bag.    
  
“Just in case,” Billy mused, casting a glance at the rowdy Irishman on the other side of the street.    
  
“Ah. Yes. I had noticed he seems a bit... effected, these days.”   
  
“I certainly know what it looks like by now. Just keep an eye out.”   
  
~*~   
  
It was a nice area to camp. Lots of rock formations and outcrops for cover. A small trickle of a crick nearby.  Dark clouds rolled overhead, but Horne and Red seemed to agree that it was too hot and dry this far out in the desert for any real rain.    
  
Billy and Goodnight wandered off to stretch their legs and maybe get some alone time. They were a fair distance from camp when a flash of lighting shot through the sky. Billy took Goodnight’s hand. His husband hated storms.    
  
“Are you alright, sayang?”   
  
The first rumble of thunder sounded and Goodnight flinched but shook his head.    
  
“I’m fine. But Faraday...”   
  
Billy’s eyes widened. By the time they got back to the campsite, the thunder had grown more and more constant. They arrived to find Faraday sitting on his bedroll, knees to his chest, his forehead to his knees, and his hands clamped over his ears. There was a low keening sound coming from him that reminded Billy of Goodnight’s worse days. The others looked worried but at a loss of what to do. Vasquez was kneeling next to him, his hand gripping Faraday’s shoulder.    
  
“It’s alright, Guero. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”   
  
“It’s the thunder.” Billy stated, walking over. “Goody.” He gestured to their packs and Goodnight retrieved the box of cigarettes, and the matches. He scooped up Faraday’s flask as well, before kneeling on the other side of him. Billy situated himself behind Faraday, his legs on either side of him, and pulled him upright, wrapping his arms around his chest.    
  
“No no no no no....” Faraday moaned, and let out a cry as another burst of thunder sounded.    
  
“It sounds like he is in pain!” There was an edge of hysteria to Vasquez’s voice.    
  
“He thinks he is.” Goodnight informed him. Billy’s maneuvering had dislodged Faraday’s hands from his ears, and Goodnight took one in his own. “Take his other hand.” Vasquez did as he was told, staring mournfully at his lover’s face. Faraday’s face was twisted up and sobs shook his shoulders.    
  
Billy was rubbing his hands over Faraday’s torso, crooning in his ear in a mix of Korean and English. Every so often, he would sing a few lines of a song.    
  
“What is happening?” Vasquez murmured to Goodnight.    
  
“The thunder. It sounds like explosions. Canons. Gatling guns. Dynamite.” He looked pointedly at Vasquez. “He’s remembering the battle. The thing is, his memories are so strong, and so clear, that it’s like he’s back there. That it’s happening right now. Every time that thunder sounds, he feels like he’s getting blown up all over again.”   
  
Faraday’s cries and moans had lessened, his breathing starting to slow and even out. Billy ran his fingers through his hair, keeping up his comforting litany.    
  
“Is this what he does for you?” Vasquez asked.    
  
“Sometimes. There’s other tricks. Different things work for different situations.” As the thunder became fewer and further between, Faraday seemed to start to come back to himself a bit. “Talk to him.”    
  
Vasquez licked his lips, looking lost. “I’m here, Josué. Come back to me, querido. You’re safe now. I’m here. We have you. You’re safe.” He picked up Billy’s litany of soothing nonsense, and Billy looked over at Goodnight and nodded. Releasing Faraday’s hand, Goodnight replaced it with Faraday’s flask, and went about lighting a cigarette. Faraday’s hand shook, but he managed to swing down a few gulps of whiskey. Goodnight took the flask back and replaced it with the cigarette.    
  
At the first drag, Faraday gasped and coughed, his eyes widening. “Holy mother of fucking hell! That is NOT tobacco!” His voice was raspy and shaking, a choked kind of sound. But it was Faraday.    
  
Billy chuckled softly behind him and kissed the top of his head. “There’s tobacco in it, too. Just smoke it. You’ll feel better.”   
  
For once in his life, Joshua Faraday did as he was told. 

 

~*~

 

They managed to get Faraday settled down and off to sleep. The storm had passed. 

 

The next day, Faraday approached Goodnight and Billy on shifting feet. “I uh… I wanted to thank you. Both of you. For last night.” He stared at the ground, not looking either of them in the eye. “I was in a real bad way, and you saw me through it. I’m grateful.” He took a deep shuddering breath. “And I just wanted...” He looked up at Goodnight, with shame in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.” He said finally. “The way I behaved toward you in Rose Creek. I was an ass. I didn’t understand, and I judged you harshly. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.” His voice was shaking, but he held Goodnight’s gaze. 

 

“I forgive you, son.” Goodnight stepped forward and pulled Faraday into a tight hug. “It’s a hell of a thing to live with, and it’s not something a man can understand unless he goes through it himself. But we’ve all got each other’s backs out here.”


	2. Goodnight&Billy - Memory Loss - NC17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodnight was not always a good person. Goodnight used to be a bad person, who later was humbled and then learned how to be good.  
> Goodnight loses all memory of this, and becomes that person again.
> 
> Chapter Rating : NC-17
> 
> Chapter Tags : NON-CON, Marital Rape, Amnesia, Period Typical Racism, 
> 
> *This fic contains a graphic scene of amnesia induced, racially motivated marital rape, and explores the mental processing of the victim. This is a dark one. 
> 
> DEAD DOVE! DO NOT EAT!
> 
> If you think this one might be too much for you, skip it. Seriously. I won't be offended. This one is fucked up.
> 
> If you think you'll be fine, then please, by all means, I'm a little proud of how this one turned out. (Also a little horrified with myself, but that is neither here nor there.)

Goodnight had been asleep for almost a week. The Gatling’s bullets had missed all the truly vital bits, but that fall off the church… he’d managed to crack his skull pretty damn hard. The doctor was optimistic, but warned them that there was a good chance he may never wake up. Faraday was still confined to the bed next to him, though Billy and Horne had been on their feet for days. Well… Billy had been firmly planted in the chair next to Goodnight’s bed. They all spent most of their time in that little sick room. Waiting. 

 

On the sixth day after the battle, Goodnight let out a groan, and blinked open his eyes. He was still a little disoriented when the doctor came in. 

 

“What happened?” He mumbled. 

 

“You fell off the damn church, is what happened!” The doctor laughed. “Damn fool of a hero.” He began poking and prodding at Goodnight as the Cajun laughed. 

 

“A church?! What in the hell was I doing up there?! Oh boy, Miss Bessie keeps saying I’m not gonna live to see thirty, and you’d think I’d try harder to prove her wrong.”

 

The room went still as confusion passed through each of the men. Only Sam and Billy knew exactly how old he was, but it was more than plain to the rest of them that he was not a single day under forty. 

 

“Son…” The doctor spoke slowly and carefully. “You took a mighty smack to the head. I’d like to check your mind is working proper. Could you tell me your name?”

 

“Fabien Goodnight Robicheaux!” Goodnight proclaimed proudly. Billy shot Sam a concerned look. Goodnight hated his first name. He never told it to people. 

 

“And what’s today’s date?”

 

“August first, eighteen-hundred and fifty-nine!” He grinned. “My birthday’s coming up next week, as a matter of fact. Twenty-five!”

 

The room felt cold. Billy’s head began to spin, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam motioning for Red and Vasquez to walk over to him. Billy stood abruptly, drawing Goodnight’s attention. 

 

“Oh, and who are you?! Awful long way from where you’re supposed to be, ain’t ya? You working the South Pacific, then?” He chuckled and shook his head. “How on earth you get in here?”

 

Billy didn’t respond. He swallowed hard and turned on his heel, marching out the room. Goodnight’s eyes followed him and he spotted Sam, who had just pushed the others out of sight. “You, boy! Get me some tea. I’m damn parched.”

 

Sam plastered a pained smile on his face as Faraday’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Right away Mister Robicheaux.” He said carefully, and stepped out of the room. 

 

When he walked out into the hall, he was met with two incredulous faces and one devastated one. 

 

“Sooooo…..” Vasquez began. “What in the hell is happening, and what the fuck did I hear him just say to you?”

 

Sam sighed and leaned against the wall. “He seems to have forgotten the last twenty years. That blow to the head. It can happen. From what I’ve heard, it can come back. It usually comes back.”

 

From inside the room, Goodnight’s voice called out “Actually, doc, can you have that pretty little chinaman bring me my tea instead? I liked the look of him.”

 

“Well.” Red deadpanned. “At least he’s still attracted to you.”

 

Billy glared viciously at him as the doctor stepped into the hall. “Well. It’s not ideal.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’ve seen folks forget the past day or so after a knock to the head, but not twenty years. And the shift in his personality is troubling.”

 

“Not really.” Sam sighed. “Goodnight at twenty-five was a very different person than Goodnight at forty-five. He was a sheltered, spoiled, rich boy, growing up on a Louisiana plantation. He was a product of his environment.” He gave a sad shrug. “But then his environment changed. The war humbled him, broke him down some. Then I met him. Saved his life, helped him out. Made him start to see things, and people, a little differently. Made him start questioning some of the things he was taught.”

 

“He still had some rough edges when I met him.” Billy murmured. “Things Sam hadn’t quite… taught him better about. But he was always… always so willing to learn. Wanted me to correct him. Wanted to be  _ better _ .” He let out a shuddered sigh. Billy Rocks did not cry in front of people. He would not cry in this hallway. 

 

“So he can learn again.” Vasquez offered. “We explain what’s happened, it’ll be a shock, but he’ll adjust. We tell him how he’s changed, and he’ll want to be like that again.”

 

“Maybe.” Sam mused. “Any idea if and when he’ll remember himself again, Doctor?”

 

“I’m afraid not. There’s no way to know.”

 

“Alright then.” Sam looked at Billy. Both men wore looks of determination on their faces. That man was just about the whole world to both of them. They would get him back. 

 

~*~

 

Goodnight did not take the information well. Not one single bit of it. He scoffed at the idea that he was missing twenty years until they brought him a mirror. The look of shock and horror on his face in reaction to how he’d aged had been a little satisfying. Even in the present day, Goodnight could be a vain fop. And he’d claimed more than a few times that he’d been even worse in his youth. 

When they told him that his best friends were a black man and an Asian man (they didn’t dare explain exactly who Billy was to him), and that he’d become brothers in arms with a Mexican and a Native… well. The full bellied incredulous laugh he gave at that had cut deep. He made a few disparaging remarks as to the absurdity of such an idea, carrying on until Faraday told him enough was enough and he should shut his fucking mouth. The irony of  _ that _ was not lost on anyone. 

 

A few days later, Goodnight was back on his feet. He didn’t remember a damn thing. But he was out of bed. He wandered the town, steadfastly refusing to be of any use to anyone but himself. Word had traveled fast of his condition, and the townsfolk were patient and understanding. This had happened to him because he helped them, after all. 

 

Sam weaved in and out of Goodnight’s presence. Trying to give gentle pushes in the direction of how to be a decent human being. Horne made regular appearances at his side, being the one Goodnight seemed to respect and listen to the most. Or at all. 

 

After about a week, Billy was on edge. He wanted his husband back. This arrogant, cruel, selfish, narcissistic asshole who was wearing his face, needed to leave. He was at his wits end. He couldn’t be near him. Couldn’t talk to him. Avoided him at every turn. That man was not his Goody. 

 

He was so lost in his despair as he walked into the stable, that he didn’t quite register a voice saying “What is a sweet little oriental doll like you doing all alone?” until he felt a large hand land a firm smack on his ass. On instinct, he whirled around, pushed the offender into the wall, and pressed a knife to his throat. Goodnight stared back at him in shock. They stood there. Just staring at each other, until Goodnight burst out laughing. 

 

“God damn, but this tiger’s got claws, huh?” He wrapped his hand around Billy’s wrist, squeezing, and pulled it away from his neck,looking over the knife. “Now where did you get something like that? Looks awful expensive for your kind, doesn’t it?” 

 

“It was a gift.” Billy choked out. ‘My husband gave it to me.’ He didn’t say. ‘ _ You _ gave it to me.’ His hands started to shake slightly, and Goodnight’s grip got tighter. Billy could break his hold. Easily. But… he couldn’t bring himself to. Goodnight twisted his wrist and the knife fell to the ground. It was the only one Billy had on him today. His belt was back in his room. 

 

Goodnight looked him up and down and shook his head, licking his lips. “My, But you are a pretty one. They sure know how to make em over there, don’t they?”

 

Billy shook. Rage. Fear. This was nothing he hadn’t experienced before. Nothing he couldn’t fight against. But this… this bastard was wearing Goodnight’s face. Speaking those horrible words in Goodnight’s voice. And Billy was paralyzed in the face of it. 

 

Goodnight flipped their positions, pinning Billy against the wall. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you keep running from me.” He leaned forward and raised his other hand to Billy’s face. “Why do keep running, huh? Folks keep saying we’re supposed to be some kind of friends.” He brushed his thumb under Billy’s eye, and leaned in to murmur against his ear. “Don’t you wanna be my friend?”

 

Billy choked back a sob. “Let me go.” He demanded, his voice cracked. “Let me go and leave me alone.”

 

“And why should I do that?” Goodnight stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. “I see the way you look at me. I hear the way people talk about how you and I allegedly used to be. Sounds to me like I might not have ever left you alone. Apparently, wherever I go, Billy goes.”

 

Billy squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Goody, please.”

 

“Goody? That’s a little familiar, don’t you think? That negro calls me that. He’s supposed to be my friend somehow, too.”

 

Billy didn’t even know where to start with all of that. “Familiar?” He growled. “You’ve got me pinned to a wall with your hands all over me, and you think I’m the one being too familiar?”

 

Goodnight chuckled. “How’s this for too familiar?” He pressed the length of his body against Billy’s. “Should I remember this? Did I used to do this to you all the time?” He held the sides of Billy’s neck in his hands. 

 

Billy’s hands were free. He could stop this. He could get away. He could… But he couldn’t bring himself to hurt him.  _ This isn’t Goodnight.  _ He told himself.  _ But it is. _ A traitorous voice replied.  _ This is who he was. Who he always was. The man you knew was a mask. You loved the shell of a man. This is the rest of him.  _

 

Goodnight pressed their lips together, kissing him roughly. Posessively. Like he owned him. 

 

In the span of only a few seconds, two things happened. Billy bit down hard on Goodnight’s lip, and Goodnight backhanded him just as hard across the face. Billy’s head snapped to the side and he froze in shock. 

 

“That was rude.” He heard through the sound of his blood pounding in his head. He had to get away. “This how you always behave for me?” He had to fight. He could fight and he could stop this. A hand grabbed his chin and turned his head. “Are gonna behave for me now, mon cher?” Billy’s face crumbled and he let out a dry sob. Goody’s favorite term of endearment. Goody’s voice. Goody’s hands. But this wasn’t Goody.  _ Yes it is _ . The voice hissed. Billy blinked and looked at that face. Stared into those beautiful pale blue eyes that he loved so much. Goody. His Goody. Billy felt himself nod. Goodnight pulled Billy’s hair out of its bun and tangled his fingers in it. Goody always loved his hair. “Let’s try that again, shall we?” This time, Billy kissed back. 

 

“Good boy.” Goodnight purred against his lips, tugging his hair a little. 

 

Suddenly, he spun him around to face the wall. Billy closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the cold hard wood, trying to will himself to stop trembling. It was just Goody. They had done this a million times. He loved Goody. Goody loved him. Everything was okay. 

 

“Mmm. Look even better like this, cher.” He pulled Billy’s head to the side by his hair and began placing biting kisses along his neck. Goody was always a biter. Billy always loved it. “I knew you’d taste sweet.” He rolled his hips forward, the hard line of his cock pressing into Billy’s ass. Goody’s hands were undoing his pants. “Don’t know how I got so lucky.” A bite to his shoulder as his pants where shoved off his hips. “My own little China doll.” 

 

Wait…

 

“Korean.” Billy muttered. Goody always corrected people when they assumed Billy was Chinese. Had done so in the middle of fire fights before. 

 

“What was that?” Mocking laughter. The sound of pants being undone and shoved down behind him. 

 

“Nothing.” It didn’t matter. 

 

Spit slick, not slick enough fingers shoved into him. He grunted quietly. His fingernails dug into the wall in front of him. 

 

“Goddamn, you’re tight! Fuck, no wonder I’m so soft on you. Probably let you get away with anything with an ass like this.”

 

Billy whimpered quietly. It hurt. It hurt so much. They didn’t do it this way around very often, but when they did, Goody was always so careful. Goody never hurt him. Goody loved him. 

 

The fingers were yanked out roughly and Billy grunted, dragging his fingernails down the wall. He knew what was coming. He knew what was going to happen. He could handle it. 

 

Except that he couldn’t. 

 

Goodnight shoved his too big, too dry cock inside him and Billy bit down on his own arm to keep from screaming. Silent sobs shook through him. He had been here before. Situations like this. Hurt like this. Hurt worse. More. But somehow, this was worse. This was everything Goodnight had promised to protect him from. 

 

“Come on, boy, I shouldn’t be doing all the work!” A stinging slap struck the side of his ass. Billy tried to remember what it was he should be doing. Taking a few deep breaths, Billy braced his forearms against the wall and rolled his hips back. “That’s it!” Goodnight hissed. “Come on. Be a good little whore and fuck yourself on my cock.” 

 

Billy’s eyes squeezed shut and his teeth clenched in pain. He moved slowly at first, but sped up when Goodnight slapped his ass again. Like he was spurring a horse. 

 

“There you go. That’s right. Fuck!” Goodnight tangled his hand in Billy’s hair again, tugging harshly and pulling his head back. He bit and sucked a bruise into his neck as his other arm gripped him tight around the middle. “Such a beautiful thing you are.” He moaned. He licked at the mark he left. “My little doll. Get to play with you all the time, don’t I?” Goodnight’s hips began to lose the rhythm and his breathing sped up. It was almost over. Billy shoved back against him hard, clenching tightly. Goodnight grunted and moaned, spilling deep inside of Billy. They stood there for a moment before Goodnight detangled himself, cleaned himself with a handkerchief, and set his clothing right again. 

 

“Well!” He clapped his hands, grinning broadly. “That was just what I needed. But I did find you for a reason. I came to tell you that the doctor gave me the all clear to leave the hospital and return to my room. I expect you to find me after dinner and show me exactly where that is.” He patted Billy on the back and sauntered back out of the stables. 

 

Billy pulled his pants back up and slid to the floor. Leaning against the wall, he shoved his fist in his mouth and let out a muffled scream, the tears flowing freely now that he was alone. 


	3. Red Harvest - Kind Restraints - PG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Anonymous 
> 
> Red gets a bad fever and is delirious. He becomes violent towards the others and himself. The team has to tie him down. 
> 
> Chapter Rating : PG
> 
> Chapter Tags : Vague descriptions of illness, Vague mentions of violence, Non consensual bondage

It happened so gradually that no one noticed until it was serious. Red had woken up one morning, feeling groggy and with a bit of a cough. He felt worse and worse each day. Too tired to eat. Too uncomfortable to sleep. But it wasn’t so bad, as far as he was concerned. He had been through worse. Had watched others go through much worse. He could handle it. Until the day he fell off his horse. 

 

The world was spinning. And blurry. There were voices. He had to focus. Had to translate what they were saying in his head. 

 

“He don’t look so good.”

 

“He’s burning up.” 

 

“Didn’t he say there’s a little cabin up a ways?”

 

Red blinked his eyes and tried to make the world make sense. A large white man was sitting next to him, touching his forehead. He struggled to remember the words he needed. 

 

“Get off me. Go away.” He pushed weakly at the man’s hand. 

 

“I don’t think he recognizes you.”

 

“He’s delirious. You should step away. The three of you are just gonna agitate him.”

 

The white man went away and a Mexican man sat in his place. 

 

“It’s alright, Red.” How did he know his name? “We’re gonna get you a in a bed under a roof. Get some medicine in you. You’ll be just fine. Come on now, up we go.” The man helped him to his feet and sat him in a saddle, sitting behind him. This wasn’t his horse. He didn’t use a saddle. Where was his horse? He was so tired. He closed his eyes. 

 

When he opened his eyes again, he was laying on a bed. The Mexican man was sitting in a chair next to him, stirring something in a cup. The room was spinning. Why was everything spinning. The man was speaking to him softly. He didn’t have the energy to translate the words. The cup was pressed to his lips. Strange tasting liquid washed down his throat. He closed his eyes again. 

 

When he opened them, it was dark. He couldn’t keep them open. 

 

It was light. Too bright. Voices. He didn’t recognize them. He knew the sound of the language. White men. Had they captured him? He had to escape. He pushed himself to his feet. 

 

~*~

 

Vasquez didn’t know Red was awake, until he fell on his ass. He saw the younger man grab the door frame for support, and then push himself outside. 

 

Faraday was the first to spot him, and tried to intercept. Which, in hindsight, may have been a mistake. Even sick as a dog, with a fever so bad he could barely walk or recognize his own friends, Red Harvest still had one hell of a right hook. Faraday dropped and Billy came up behind Red and grabbed him around the middle, pinning his arms to his sides. Red struggled against the hold, letting out a string of profanity in his native tongue. 

 

“He has no idea who we are.” Sam announced, as if that wasn’t obvious.  _ “Hey now, it’s alright.”  _ He told Red in Comanche. Speaking softly, and approaching the younger man slowly with his hands up.  _ “No one here is gonna hurt you. You’re safe. You’ve got a fever. Been sick a few days. We’re helping you.” _

 

Red shook his head, either not understanding or just not believing him. He kicked back at Billy’s shins, trying to break free. 

 

“I can only hold him like this for so long, Sam.”

 

“If we can't calm him, we may need to restrain him.”

 

Billy turned to glare at Jack. “No. Can you not see how much worse that will make things for him?”

 

“I agree, Billy.” Sam sighed. “But he’s right. Red isn’t in his right mind right now, and as such he’s a danger. Not only to us, but to himself. We don’t have much of a choice.”

 

~*~

 

It was dark again. Red Harvest tried to sit up. He couldn’t. His arms were stuck. Something rough holding his wrists above his head. He pulled, and thrashed and shouted. He couldn’t break free. Someone was speaking. Comforting words in his own language. Was he home? He didn’t know the voice, but it was familiar. Had they all been captured? He didn’t know where he was. Where was his family? He felt sick. Weakened. Was he dying? Was his family dead? He felt tears running down his face. He felt cold, but he was sweating. Everything was spinning. He yelled and sobbed until he lost consciousness again. 

 

~*~

 

“Sam?” Red’s quiet, raspy voice cut through the light doze Sam had fallen into. He sprang awake and straightened in his chair, looking down at his young friend. 

 

“You recognize me now, son?” He asked quietly. Red’s face twisted in confusion. He tried to bring his arms down, and looked even more confused when he couldn’t. “Now now, it’s alright. Everything’s fine. You had a fever that cooked your brain some. Had to tie you down for your own good.” He pressed his palm to Red’s forehead. “Seems to have broken now. I untie you, you promise not to take a swing at me and run off into the woods?” 

 

“I feel half dead, why would I do something like that?”

 

“Hate to break it to ya Red, but you did exactly just that about two days ago. Faraday’s still got the shiner to prove it.”

 

“I punched Faraday?”

 

“Mmmhm. Clocked him right in the eye.”

 

“Well.” Red stretched and settled into the bed. “At least some good came out of all this.”


End file.
